


Good days and bad ones

by Saetha



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Cuddling, Depressed Steve, Infinity War, Infinity War spoilers, M/M, Multi, Sam is the fucking best, Soft sad, bucky the goatfarmer, cause i feel like this is p accurate lmao, is 'soft sad fluff' a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 23:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: Some scenes from Sam, Steve and Bucky's lives before Infinity War and during, right up to the end.Bucky hums. He’s still exhausted down to the marrow of his bones, but with Sam it’s bearable. He only hopes that he can provide as much peace and comfort to Sam as Sam does for him. Whenever he looks down at him he feels like there is so much that he wants to give him. Sam deserves the world and if he could just hand it to him, he would.“You’re terrible at romance, Barnes,” Sam chastises him. Bucky laughs and squeezes his hand a little.





	Good days and bad ones

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Mackie, for telling all of us that Sam went down to Wakanda every week to visit Bucky. Ha. 
> 
> This is soft sad fluff. And then just sad.  
> Not a fix it.

When Sam returns from buying supplies Steve is sitting in a dark hotel room, looking out over the lights of the city and the rain outside. His cheek is pressed into his hand and for a moment Sam thinks he might be asleep, but then Steve shifts slightly.

“Steve? Hey.” Sam walks over without switching on the lights, pulls out a chair and drops down next to him. He pulls out an apple and hands it to him; for a moment Steve looks at it like it’s some kind of foreign object before taking a small bite.

“Hey,” Steve says around chewing.

Sam lets him eat, stretching a little in his seat. He feels tired and stretched thin and is missing his family. The constant hiding is wearing him down bit by bit and if he’s honest he isn’t sure if he would still be here if it weren’t for Steve and the fact that this little team of theirs sorely needs him. Steve bumps his knee against Sam’s as if he can read his thoughts and wants to comfort him. He probably can, considering the amount of time they have spent together.

“What are you looking at?” Asking Steve this question is always a good way to gauge what kind of day it is. On good days, Steve will talk about what he sees outside, how it reminds him of one thing or another, how the colours flow just so to make that shape over there. He and Steve will snuggle close, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort. On bad days, Steve will give a non-committal, short answer which Sam knows not to prod and poke him about. On very bad days, Steve will just say nothing and continue staring outside, seeing things that nobody else does. Sam leaves him alone then, just like Steve wants him to, knowing that he cannot help. He loves Steve but he is not about to set himself on fire just to keep him warm. And he has his own bad days to worry about which Steve often tries to alleviate as much as he can. Somehow, they’ve carried each other so far. Somehow.

Today is a good day.

“I always thought the rain makes things so soft,” Steve says quietly. “How it mutes the shadows and the light. How it drowns out sadness and joy. How it-“

“…washes away the blood from the soil. Makes the good and the bad disappear. Yeah,” Sam finishes the sentence for him. He knows they both see the war when they look out. Steve sighs, his whole body deflating when he leans to the side to let their shoulders touch and intertwines their fingers. Sam squeezes them, just a little. Maybe, if they just stare outside for long enough, the rain will dull the sharp edges inside them that keep prodding and hurting.

*

“How’s Steve?” Bucky asks Sam. They’ve spent the day outside, working on bringing in the hay to help feed the goats for the next few months. They’re both exhausted, but in a good way, the way that comes from voluntarily working hard and looking at your achievements at the end of it. Sam shrugs. He’s stretched out, his back leaning comfortably against Bucky’s right side. Bucky’s left shoulder still hurts from time to time, the absence of the metal limb just making the phantom pain of the real one he once had stronger. The pain, however, is still far better than the metal arm. The arm is a symbol for war and he is done fighting for now, unless he is desperately needed.

“So, so,” Sam tells him. “He’s got good days and bad ones. He misses you. It still feels like he’s lost his direction ever since the Avengers broke up.”

Bucky sighs and shifts slightly, draping his right hand over Sam’s. He still feels terrible that he’s chosen to be mostly alone for now and told Steve not to visit for a while. But he knows he needs it; he needs the time and space to sort through his mind, to find out what kind of person he is on his own. Steve is too much all at once, more than he can cope with right now. But it won’t be forever, he tells himself. One day soon he, Sam and Steve will be together again. Like they’re supposed to be.

“Sorry,” he says and means it. “And sorry for asking about him all the time when you’re right here next to me. You’re just as important to me, don’t ever forget. How are _you_ doing?”

“So, so.” But this time there is a small smile on Sam’s face when he says it and he looks up at Bucky’s face. Bucky grins and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Good days and bad ones, you know?”

“Mine are mostly good when you’re here,” Bucky hums. He’s still exhausted down to the marrow of his bones, but with Sam it’s bearable. He only hopes that he can provide as much peace and comfort to Sam as Sam does for him. Whenever he looks down at him he feels like there is so much that he wants to give him. Sam deserves the world and if he could just hand it to him, he would.

“You’re terrible at romance, Barnes,” Sam chastises him. Bucky laughs and squeezes his hand a little.

*

Steve is lost.

Despite everything he’s been through, everything that’s been taken from him, he was able to persist because he was fuelled by the desire to do the right thing. It had kept him going beyond Bucky’s death, through the Chitauri Invasion and the fall of SHIELD and even past the terrible rift the Accords had caused. But now? The Avengers are gone and so is Bucky, again; Sam is the only one he has left. Sam and Nat and Wanda. If it weren’t for Sam and the love Steve carries for him he’d have given up months ago.

He feels smaller than he has ever been, even before the serum. At night, he’s nestled against Sam’s chest, Sam reading one book or another by the light of the desk lamp, one of his arms draped over Steve’s shoulder. He’s just returned from another visit to Wakanda, bringing another letter from Bucky that Steve hasn’t opened yet. He understands Bucky’s need for space, but he cannot deny the way it makes his chest hurt.

“Sam?”

“Mhm?” Sam marks his place in the book with his finger and looks down at Steve.

“I love you.” The words flow so easily from Steve’s lips, the only firm anchor in that pit of emptiness inside him. Sam gives a soft little laugh, brushing one hand over Steve’s shoulder.

“I love you, too,” he says. “You should try and catch some sleep.”

“I know,” Steve yawns. He hasn’t slept a wink last night. Now that Sam’s back, that fragile feeling of _almost safe_ has returned with him. Steve closes his eyes, feeling the warmth of Sam’s body next to his.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, very quietly. He isn’t even sure he wants Sam to hear it.

“Never,” is Sam’s reply, steadfast and sure and the last thing Steve hears before he drops off into sleep.

When reports come in about a disturbance in New York, about Tony missing, he is almost grateful for it. He might have lost his direction but here, at least, is a purpose.

*

There isn’t a single part inside Bucky that wants to fight again. He stares down at the arm, glinting in the sunlight, almost haunting in its perfection. But then, the fate of the world is at stake, isn’t it? And the least he can do for the Wakandans is to defend their homeland to the death. This is so much bigger than just his desires and so, of course, he agrees.

The new arm is far lighter than his last and it takes him a while to adjust to the weight. But then Sam is there and Steve is back and-. The time apart did Bucky good, but he cannot deny that the weight of Steve’s embrace feels as right as it always has. And yet they have so little time together even though there is so much to talk about.

And perhaps there will be time for them to talk, all three of them, after. It seems like they have to win a war first.

He and Sam wait outside as the others enter the building and Bucky smiles when he embraces Sam with the same ferocity he’d just given Steve.

“It’s good to have you back. Both of you,” he says. Sam laughs and slings an arm around this shoulder and suddenly Bucky feels a lightness inside him despite the looming war.

“Likewise. With us back together, these aliens better think twice about invading.”

Bucky grins, as always in love with Sam’s cockiness. They stand side by side, as close as they can until the sky opens up and pours their adversaries down on them. And as much as Bucky hates to fight, as much as he is still thinking about the goats and fields he’s left behind, it feels good to be part of a team again. To be on the right side of history, for a change.

It all goes well until it doesn’t, until he sees Sam fly at Thanos, sees his wings crumple under the force of the infinity stones and Sam being flung aside like a bird with broken wings. He isn’t  not moving or trying to get up from where he’s landed. And there is Steve on the ground, his form still and not reacting when Thanos throws Sam and suddenly Bucky is _screaming_ in pain and fear and sheer desperation and the only thing he can think of is to _fight_. The impact when he is knocked aside jars every bone in his body and makes him black out.

When he wakes again the sky is rumbling and nothing feels right. Steve is up but Sam isn’t there and Bucky scrambles onto his knees, fear gripping his heart and crushing it in two. He takes a step in Steve’s direction, then another, but something feels wrong, so incredibly wrong and he-

“Steve?”

*

Having both Steve and Bucky back at his side again feels good. That and flying through the air, with Rhodey as his companion, fighting for what’s right. It’s where he should be, what he should be doing. Bucky always tells him that he loves watching Sam soar through the sky, _because it’s what you were born to do_. And Bucky is right, this is what he is happiest doing.

He watches as the Wakandans open the dome and sees the thousands of creatures pouring in. He and Rhodey take out as many as they can but there are more and more of them and they just keep coming even when the god of thunder himself appears. If he squints, he can make out Bucky and Steve fighting on the ground, Bucky’s arm glinting in the sun as he swings around something that looks like a racoon with a gun. Sam shakes his head, not sure if he’s seen it right but that’s hardly his main concern right now.

And then Steve calls for their help and there is a fear in his voice that Sam has never heard there before. He flies as fast as he can but he isn’t fast _enough_ and there is Steve being thrown through the air like a ragdoll and _he isn’t getting up_ and all that Sam can feel is a scream rising in his chest that might never stop.

He flies at Thanos, half knowing that it will be useless because this lavender monster just knocked out Captain America with no problem, but he still has to try. He cannot even reach Thanos before his wings stop working and he is in the grip of something far more powerful and being flung around. _Fuck_ , he thinks before he blacks out. _Fuck, I’m sorry_.

Sam comes to himself amongst the branches of a few brushes and everything hurts. Somewhere Sam can hear Rhodey call his name and it spurs him into action. He might not want to move, but he has too, there are things more important than him happening. The sky grumbles and the sense of foreboding is so strong it almost takes his breath away.

He needs to get up and see if Bucky and Steve are still alive. He needs to-

*

Steve reaches out with trembling fingers to touch the ground where Bucky had been just seconds ago. He thinks he can still see a few flakes of dust on the leaves and has the irrational thought to catch them and keep them safe because this is _Bucky_ and maybe he can bring him _back_ if he just tries hard enough.

There is a whine in the back of his mind like a child screaming and it makes it difficult to see, difficult to hear anything else, but somewhere he can hear Rhodey shouting for Sam and _there is no answer_. No, not Sam too, not him, not him and Bucky both, the two pieces of his heart that he had just put back together again.

The screaming in his brain is getting louder, a never-ending barrage of _no no no please no no please not them not them it should have been me NO NOT LIKE THIS NO PLEASE NO-_ until all he can do is sink to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut, reality crushing him beneath its cruel fingers as the realisation slowly sinks in.

They lost.

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished a slightly bigger 50k MCU fic this weekend but I can't publish it yet cause it's for the Cap Big Bang. So here, have this instead.


End file.
